


amor vincit omnia

by iridescentprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6006595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentprincess/pseuds/iridescentprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day, a holiday that Clarke doesn't really understand. Bellamy gets shot with a drug-laced arrow that causes him to act very strangely. </p><p>Or: someone really wanted to role-play as Cupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	amor vincit omnia

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! not sure if this qualifies as crack, but it's pretty close. set way into the future, when everyone has forgiven everyone and they're settled in peace because angst sucks right now. 
> 
> wrote this really fast in order to get it out today, so I didn't edit. oops. sorry for any errors!
> 
> title comes from the name of the painting made by the Italian painter Caravaggio, depicting the Roman Cupid. It's Latin, and means "love conquers all."

Clarke doesn’t really understand this Earth holiday all that well.

Apparently, there was a lot of popularity surrounding it a hundred years ago. She thinks she heard someone the other day saying that it was hyped up because people could make money off of selling corny love cards and flowers and chocolate, and a shitload of other things that Clarke thinks are a waste of time to begin with.

Who needs a holiday for love right now, anyway? All that time and energy and resources could go into something else, like building the new cabins or tilling the land to grow more food or stocking up on medicine. Certainly not into loving someone with curly dark hair and freckles and the most stubborn, overprotective personality known to mankind. Nope.

So when she walks into the mess hall for breakfast, and finds that the cooks have made everything, even the fucking _sandwiches_ , heart-shaped, she turns around and walks back out. She’s having none of that.

Octavia stops her on her way out the door. “Hey, what are you doing? I just saw you walk in, and you need to eat breakfast. What have me and Bellamy been telling you for the past month?”

“ _Eat your breakfast, princess, people need you and we can’t have you being unhealthy,_ blah blah blah,” she grumbles, mocking Bellamy’s deep voice. The idiot was such a mother hen.

“That’s right,” the younger Blake chirps. “So, turn around, eat the damn food, and then you can be on your way.” She pushes her backward into the mess hall, her hands going to Clarke’s shoulders. Clarke tries to resist, but she’s easily dragged in.

“How the hell did you get so strong?” she asks, astonished.

“I ate my breakfast.” Octavia guides her to a table, with Jasper and Raven sat eating on it.

Octavia pushes down on Clarke’s shoulders, forcing her to plop her butt next to Raven on the bench. Then she leaves a second after, dashing off to the line of people waiting for food.

“Good morning,” Jasper greets her. He watches Octavia saunter off, amused. “You can just feel the love in the air, can’t you?” Clarke snorts.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babe,” Raven says sarcastically, stabbing her heart-shaped loaf of bread with her fork with a bit of force. “You’ll be my galentine, right?”

“Um, okay.” Clarke scratches her head. “What’s that?”

“I read about it somewhere. Galentine’s Day is basically the day where ladies celebrate friendship love together. No relationships are allowed to be celebrated.” Raven chews thoughtfully, poking at her meat with her fork. “Also, there’s a lot of alcohol involved.”

“Sounds like my type of party,” Clarke remarks.

A second later, a plate full of heart-shaped food is thrust into her face. “Eat, or I’m having Bellamy scold you,” Octavia threatens.

Clarke hesitates before taking a small part of the bread on her plate. “Speaking of Bellamy, where is he?”

“Out hunting with Miller and the others. The hunting party left at dawn, so they should be back very soon,” she informs her, the threat in her voice still evident.

Translation: Don’t try anything while he’s gone, or I’m having him hunt you down instead of our next dinner.

Octavia sashays away before Clarke can reply. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” she yells with her back turned.

Clarke curses the Blakes’ need to take care of people as she reluctantly dives into her meal, mumbling quietly. Can’t they see that she can take care of herself just fine?

After eating her breakfast with Raven and Jasper, she heads straight for the medbay. Her mom is already there. As soon as she enters, Abby hugs her tightly. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she murmurs.

Clarke groans. “Not you too,” she replies. “Are you under the impression that this day actually means anything?”

“Oh, come on, Clarke,” she sighs. “The people have been under the impression that all the world has to offer is violence and bloodshed. Let them see the world differently today, a world full of love and promise and hope.”

The blonde wants to point out that most people dedicate this day to having sex with their significant other, and not to some philosophical and inspiring idea of a beautiful world, but she holds her tongue. No need to get cynical with her mother. “I guess so.”

It’s silent in the medbay as the Griffins work in peace, Abby cataloguing the amount of medicine they have and Clarke sterilizing the equipment that they used yesterday. Clarke is just rummaging for more moonshine when they hear a commotion outside.

“Somebody help me carry him in!” someone shouts, the voice sounding not too far away. Abby and Clarke both bolt up, rushing toward the entrance, gearing up for another emergency.

“Somebody get Octavia! And can someone please find Clarke and keep her away from here? Is she already at the medbay?” someone else asks loudly, closer to the medbay. Clarke recognizes Miller’s voice.

Her heart immediately stops. Her body fills with a sense of dread. _No,_ Clarke thinks. _No no no no no._

The next couple seconds happen in a blur as Miller and Kane almost drag somebody in, grunting the whole way to the nearest patient bed. Clarke doesn’t even have to look. She already knows who it is, she can feel it in her bones.

Her feet bring her to the patient anyway. “Bellamy,” she cries, pushing Miller out of the way. He’s there, pale and almost unconscious, his head lolling on the pillow. “Oh my god, Bellamy! What the fuck happened?”

His eyes go in and out of focus, but they stare determinedly at Clarke like he’s fighting to keep them open. “I got shot,” he weakly croaks.  

“Shot?” She looks at his side, finding a growing patch of blood on his shirt. She quickly disposes of his shirt. Her hands go straight for the arrow protruding from his abdomen. Without turning around, she yells, “Mom, get me some cloth and moonshine!”

Somebody places a hand on her shoulder. “I think you should sit this one out, Clarke,” Miller advises her. “Let your mom do this.”

“No,” Clarke snarls, her hands pushing the hair off Bellamy’s forehead gently, a contrast to her harsh, biting tone. “I have to do this. Mom, hurry up!” She can get the stuff without her mom’s help, but she refuses to leave Bellamy’s side.  

“He’s right,” Abby objects. She moves to stand next to Clarke, examining the arrow and the amount of blood leaving Bellamy’s body. She quickly places a cloth around the wound and cleans it, drenching his side with moonshine. Bellamy hisses. “A little warning would be nice,” he pants.

“Mom!” Clarke admonishes, trying to push her away. “Mom, I got this.”

“No, you don’t.” She looks to Miller. “Get her out of here.”

Miller grabs her arm, gently trying to pull her away, but Clarke holds on tightly to Bellamy’s hand. “No! Mom, I can help!”

Abby swivels to face her daughter. “No, you can’t! You’re too involved, Clarke!” She shoots her a knowing look before turning back to Bellamy’s wound.

“Clarke, I’m fine,” Bellamy assures her, his eyes like slits. He can barely keep them open. “Go. I’m going to be okay.”

She presses a chaste kiss on his forehead before letting Miller take her away from him.

Too involved? What did she mean by that? Clarke digests her mother’s words, hands shaking.

As the fresh air hits her, she realizes that she’s heard her mother say those words before. She only ever says those words when the patient’s significant other refuses to leave the medbay while someone is treating the patient. Much like what Clarke just did.

Her mother just treated her like she was Bellamy’s significant other, and for once, she doesn’t disagree with her. Her and Bellamy are each other’s significant other in almost every sense of the word. Almost.

Clarke glares at the ground, then at Miller. “What happened? How did all of this happen?”

“We were walking through the woods, about half a mile away. We hadn’t even found any animals yet. Bellamy was in front of us, and we weren’t paying attention to him, so we didn’t notice that he was shot until we heard him groaning.”

She places a hand on her forehead, rubbing her temples. “This cannot be happening. We have an alliance with every Grounder clan within this area,” she expresses, more to herself than Miller. “So much for a promise of hope and shit on Valentine’s Day.” She lowers herself to the ground, sitting right outside the entrance to the medbay. Miller probably knows that she isn’t budging anytime soon, because he sits next to her without saying anything.

They sit in silence for about fifteen minutes before Octavia finally shows up. They stand up as she runs to them, wide-eyed and worried. Someone must’ve already told her what happened, because all she asks is, “Bellamy’s going to be okay, right?” She looks to Clarke, pleading with her for a good answer.

“I don’t know,” Clarke answers honestly. “My mom kicked me out, told me I couldn’t operate on him. Apparently I’m too involved.”

“You are,” she agrees. “That was a good call. I trust you now not to hurt Bellamy emotionally, but physically I’m not so sure.”

Clarke lurches her head back, confused. “What are you talking about, Octavia?”

“You go crazy whenever he’s hurt or in danger. I wouldn’t trust you to operate on him either. It’s surprising that you’re not trying to get back inside right now.”

“You should’ve seen her a few minutes ago,” Miller mumbles. Clarke turns to glare at him again.

Octavia smiles sadly. “I understand how you feel, Clarke.” And somehow, it sounds like she’s implying more than just sharing a feeling of protection towards Bellamy.

Abby pokes her head through the door to the medbay. Spotting Octavia, she says, “Oh, good, you’re here. I’ve stitched up his side and he’s a bit hazy, but he’s conscious. Octavia, you could come in now.”

Octavia gives one last look at Clarke before entering the door that Abby holds open for her.

Clarke begins to pace. She knows now that Bellamy is okay, but the anxiety won’t subside. She doesn’t know who is watching her or how much time passes, but she doesn’t care.

Octavia finally comes back out. She’s half confused and half amused. “For some reason, he keeps asking for you. He sounds like he’s stoned or something, but maybe that’s from whatever your mom gave him.”

“He’s probably still experiencing the effects of some drug,” Clarke speculates. “Or maybe he’s in shock?”

“He’s been hurt too many times to be in any state of shock from a wound,” Octavia quips, laughing. “Even I’m used to it.”

“That’s true,” Clarke says, but she knows the feeling in the pit of her stomach doesn’t scream _I’m used to it_. She is definitely not used to Bellamy getting hurt, and she doesn’t think she ever will.

When she enters the medbay, Bellamy’s sitting propped up against some pillows on the same bed that he was dragged onto. Relief floods through her system, washing away all of the other feelings that she’s been experiencing for the past hour. As soon as he sets his eyes on Clarke, his whole face lights up. Ignoring Abby sitting at the desk, she makes a beeline to him.

“How are you feeling?” Clarke asks, pressing her palm against his shoulder. She tentatively sits next to him on the bed, careful not to jostle him. He looks at her with this dazed, dreamy expression on his face. “Are you uncomfortable? Need something to drink?”

He doesn’t respond for a minute, only staring at her eyes. “Clarke,” he murmurs.

Octavia wasn’t kidding when she said he was stoned. Clarke suppresses the urge to laugh. “What is it, Bell?”

“I like it when you call me that. Bell,” he states. Then he chuckles. He grabs her hand from his shoulder and holds it between his big hands, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs. “Oh, Happy Valentine’s Day by the way.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not really a ‘happy’ Valentine’s Day, nor will it ever be now. You just got shot with an arrow, for crying out loud!”

“I feel fine, Clarke, don’t be so worried,” he asserts. Of course, he’s the one comforting her instead of the other way around. “Actually, I’ve been feeling amazing ever since you came here, baby.”

 _Baby_? Since when did he use a nickname for her other than princess? His words puzzle her, but she doesn’t question it. She notices that he doesn’t have any water and goes to stand from the bed. “Look, I’m going to get you a cup of water, I’ll be ri一”

He tightens his grip on her hand. “Don’t go,” he pleads. “Stay here.”

Clarke scrutinizes him, standing there with her hand still in his. “Bellamy, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” His eyes shine, and Clarke believes it for a moment, but she’s still suspicious. He shouldn’t be so happy right now. The Bellamy she knows would be frowning right now, grumpy at the fact that he has to stay in bed.

He opens his arms wide. “Clarke, come here. I’m sleepy. Let’s have a cuddle.”

Okay, now she definitely knows something’s wrong. Bellamy can be affectionate when he wants to be, but he’s never vocal about it. And although the thought of sleeping in Bellamy’s arms sounds very inviting, she can’t satisfy that craving right now. Even if his pouting face is quite possibly the cutest thing she’s ever seen.

She turns to see Abby already staring at them curiously. Clarke sends her a worried look. “Mom, why is he acting like this? Did you give him any long-lasting drugs?”

Abby shakes her head. “No. I didn’t even give him anything for the pain, he stubbornly refused.” Then a flash of remembrance crosses her face. “He said he’d feel better as soon as he saw you, which I thought was too cheesy to come out of his mouth.”

“He seriously said that?” Clarke rushes forward to examine Bellamy. “His face is flushed, his pupils are dilated, overly affectionate…” She goes over every medical condition she knows, but she can’t match his symptoms with one. What the hell is wrong with him?       

Then it hits her. “Mom, do you know if the arrow was laced with anything?”

Abby looks at her, mouth agape. “Shit,” she blurts. Clarke is going to take that as a no.

They both dash to the operating table, where the arrow rests. It’s mostly covered in Bellamy’s dried blood, but Clarke can just make out a gold, almost shimmery substance staining the head of the arrow.

“Fuck,” Clarke mutters. “It was laced with something!” It’s been awhile since she’s encountered a poison-laced Grounder weapon. It totally escaped her mind. She smacks her palm to her forehead. She should’ve known.

“Poison?” Abby suggests worriedly. They don’t have the antidotes to any Grounder poisons yet.

“No, it would’ve worked by now,” Clarke says. “Why would a Grounder lace it with something other than poison?”

She looks back to see Bellamy blatantly staring at her ass. He meets her eyes and gives her a wolfish grin. “Clarke,” he calls quietly.

She quickly goes over to him. “How are you feeling?”

He ignores her in favor of pressing a smacking kiss to her surprised lips.

Clarke tries to pull away, but he just moves forward, keeping his lips on hers. He kisses her hungrily, too messy for Clarke’s liking. She grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him away. _This shouldn’t be how our first kiss happens,_ she thinks. “Bellamy! Why are you kissing me?”

He furrows his brow. “Why not? I love一”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Clarke interjects before he can finish saying the three words she wants to hear from him. “You are not going to say that while you’re acting under some drug.”

“But I do love you,” Bellamy declares quietly. Clarke sighs, wishing that he was in his right mind so that she could believe him.

“Whatever it was, it almost sounds like an aphrodisiac, except it doesn’t look like he’s experiencing libido,” Abby explains clinically. “You think Lincoln would know anything about this?”

“Let me go get him,” Clarke says, before stepping out the door.

Luckily, she finds Lincoln with Octavia fairly quickly and explains the situation to them both. He agrees to follow her, Octavia on their heels. Abby has a concerned look on her face.

When she returns to the medbay, Bellamy has a blanket wrapped around him, and he looks pale, sick. He looks at Clarke and immediately lights up like the first time, but then frowns at Lincoln and Octavia behind her. “Why are there more people here? I just want Clarke.” He winces in pain as he sits up. “Clarke, come here, please,” he whines.  

Clarke complies, walking over to his bed, and before she knows it, she’s got the idiot wrapping her in his arms by her waist. She squeaks as he pulls her down next to him and shifts her until he is comfortably spooning her. She struggles in his hold, but she can’t move more than an inch. She can feel Bellamy’s breaths even out, and then she can hear Bellamy’s snores.

Both her mom and his sister stare at them, and she has the sudden urge to crawl into a hole. She blushes furiously.

Lincoln cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at Bellamy. “The arrow was laced with something golden, yes?”

Clarke nods. “Are you familiar with this?”

“I think so,” he says. “The golden paste is kind of an aphrodisiac, except it isn't. It makes people become overly affectionate towards the person they love, someone they desired and was attracted to before being drugged.” He scratches the back of his neck, awkward. “That person is obviously you.” He looks significantly at the two still spooning. Clarke blushes even more.

“So, someone drugged him with what? A love potion?” Octavia asks, skeptical.

Lincoln sighs. “That would be correct.”

“What’s the cure for the drug?” Clarke asks.

The healer ponders for a moment. “Nothing, really,” he answers. “The drug only lasts for a couple of hours and has no long-lasting effects. However,” he forewarns, “if he doesn’t receive affection from the person he desires, he’s going to end up in a lot of pain. I suggest staying in that position for the rest of the morning. He’ll sleep it off, and when he looks normal, that means it’s over.”

“The rest of the _morning_?”

“He started coughing heavily after you left, Clarke. He got the chills afterwards, and his temperature spiked. It looked like he had gotten the flu the moment you left,” Abby supplies. “Now he looks completely fine. I think Lincoln is right.”

Clarke grudgingly admits that they’re right, and for the next three hours, she allows Bellamy to spoon her. At one point, he begins to panic from a dream and Clarke calms him down, turning around in his arms to play with his hair. She knows he likes it when she does that.

At noon, Raven walks into the medbay and takes one look at them before doubling over and cackling. “Oh my god, this has got to be the best thing to happen on Valentine’s Day,” she jokes, still laughing.

Clarke scowls at the mechanic. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes without remorse, wiping the tears from her eyes, “It’s just too funny. Of course the asshole would confess his love for you because he got shot by Cupid’s arrow!”

“What? Who’s Cupid?”

“Ask him when he wakes up. He should know who that is,” Raven says cryptically, before leaving.

Bellamy chooses that exact moment to stir. Clarke watches as he slowly opens, then widens his eyes as he stares down at her still in his arms. “Woah. Fuck.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Did we get drunk or something last night? Because I’m pretty sure I would remember going to bed with you, and I’ve got the worst pounding headache.” Then he looks at their surroundings. “Wait, why are we at the medbay?”

“You were out hunting with the others when you got shot with a drug-laced arrow that made you more affectionate towards me. And now we’re here,” Clarke explains, like she planned what she was going to say. Which she sort of did. She was laying there for three hours, no one can blame her.

Bellamy looks at her in disbelief. “Um, okay,” he grunts. “Happy Valentine’s Day?”

Clarke ignores the sentiment. “Raven said you got shot with Cupid’s arrow, whatever that means.”

“Oh, shit, well that makes sense,” he mumbles. He sits up, taking her with him.

“What?”

“The myth is that Cupid, the Roman god of desire and erotic love, shot people with arrows which made people fall in love with the first person they saw. I guess, in this case, I was already in love with someone.” He meets her eyes, a shy smile taking over his face.

She grins, a bubble of happiness bursting in her chest. “This isn't the drug talking? You really feel this way?”

He leans in to press a kiss to her mouth, letting it explain himself instead. “I was picking flowers for you when I got shot with the arrow. Guess someone wanted to have fun and act as Cupid.” He shakes his head, still in astonishment. “I want to be mad at whoever wanted to shoot me, but it pushed us to get together, so.”

“That has to be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard. But I love you too.”

They’re still kissing by the time Octavia comes into the medbay to check on them. “So, I’m assuming the drug has worn off? Or have you given up on ignoring your obvious love for each other and kissed him anyway?” she asks Clarke. “Which isn't taking advantage, by the way. He would kiss you even if he wasn’t high off some love potion.”

“The drug’s worn off, O,” Bellamy confirms, disgruntled from his sister’s interruption.

“Oh, good. Carry on, lovebirds,” she teases, turning and leaving.

Clarke is suddenly struck with realization. “Do you know what this means? Now we have to tell people we got together on Valentine’s Day. How mushy is that?”

“I’ll deal with it if you can,” Bellamy proclaims. _I’m in this if you want to be._ He brushes the hair back from her face, waiting for her reply.

“I can deal,” she tolerates, pressing her forehead against his. _I want to be in this._

Clarke doesn’t understand this Earth holiday all that well, but she guesses she could probably appreciate it more now.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated! thanks for reading, of course :-)


End file.
